FUCKIN' WITHOUT LOVIN'
the boy i see tonight
lives in Manayunk and maybe
in another life
i could fall in love with him.
his eyes turn soft and doe-like when he
his eyebrows crease together like they are
he's got hip bones like razor blades pressing
into the insides of my thighs, leaving
cuts and bite marks and bruises
i call them "love bites" in my head, but
we sit naked, me in my torn gray underwear
you in gray sweat shorts and
we talk about emotionless sex
(what we are having).
i make myself cum with my fingers and
you sit patient in my panting dog quiet
your fingers holding just above my hips
and your eyes are soft enough
for me to fall into
your tongue is kind enough
for me to moan into
you are so much like prey and
i am so predatory so i kiss down your spine
finding your soft places
will not let me in and it's better that way;
we talk about emotionless sex &
i find love bites from you on my inner thighs
memories from your
soft doe eyes from your
forearms covered in veins like creeks from your
soft woodland mouth.
Francesca Wilkin is a Philadelphia poet living in New England. She attends a small liberal arts school and is on her college's CUPSI team. She has been published on smaller journals such as Dressing Room Poetry, Philadelphia Stories Teen, and Persephone's Daughters. Follow her @frankiewilkin98.
cover photo by Anna Sastre.